I had to fess up. "Yes, Mr. Garrett. I admit

I had to fess up. "Yes, Mr. Garrett. I admit that when I was transferring your brain into your new robochassis I fumbled it. But it was only on the floor for 3 seconds, tops." He

didn't seem mollified until I pointed out that dropped food gets FIVE whole seconds aftering hitting the floor before it is considered bad, so his brain on the floor for three was

still salvageable. I leaned in and examined it more closely. "Yes, a little superglue, a few stitches - that's all you need." He just drooled. I sighed and dialed 1-800-4BRAINS.

I heard "Thankyou for choosing 4Brains where grey matters. Have ready cranial size in cc,note some shrinkage occurs during storage. An operator will be with you shortly." & replied

I, "I would like to give a piece of my mind." After a pause I heard a voice. "4Brains, grey matters, what problem?" "The frontal lobe was jostled shipment, I can't think straight."

"Please hold while I transfer you to frontal lobe assistance" "But I..." Muzak filled my eardrum. The Girl from Impanema. 20 minutes ticked by. My brain was now throbbing. "This is

phone into the intruder's face, knocking him unconscious. How did he get in my house? Why was he talking like a recorded phone message? I duct taped his hands & feet, then checked

the number on his lapel. "This guy is message 2 of 14," I muttered. He kept blankly repeating, "It's Shelley, did you get my text?" As he fought his bonds I ran to the window,

belly jiggling and tits bouncing. And coconut's are my witness, my knee caps ejected themselves from my legs like tiny ufos. They flew away and went on to scare little children.